What The Fire Claims
by simply woven
Summary: Kerry's point of view and thoughts during Sandy's surgery in 'Where There's Smoke'. Short little one-shot.


Disclaimer: I don't own them, or ER.

Spoilers: season ten.

Kerry's point of view on Sandy in surgery during 'Where There's Smoke'.

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I saw Stephen tell Grace. I saw her break down as she heard that her husband hadn't made it; that his life had been claimed by the fire. I heard her agonized crying and saw her fall into Stephen's arms as the elevator doors shut. The ride up was one of pure torture; anguish, uncertainty and distress coursing through my body, though my mind was blank. If it weren't for the rickety tapping of my ringed finger against the cold, metal frame of the gurney, I don't think I'd have realized I was shaking so vigorously; I was numb. Finally- or maybe it was all too soon -the elevator halted and the doors glided open. Everything was a blur; I didn't quite hear Elizabeth order pre-op to take Sandy into the OR, yet I saw her being wheeled away, through the glass doors; I didn't hear her tell me to change in the locker room, nevertheless I found myself answering and obliging. I grabbed a pair of rough, blue scrubs. Slowly -that's how it felt, at least- and unsteadily, I traded my own, soft clothing for the thin cotton and found myself in the scrub room. I watched as Elizabeth scrubbed her hands and forearms hastily; she didn't look up from the sink once. Shirley was talking to me, asking me a question- something about the sterile field; I found myself nodding, removing my arm from my crutch and handing it to her. I regretted agreeing as soon I took a step and faltered slightly- from what I knew was nervousness, from what must have been unknown to the few surrounding people. Any other day, I would have been embarrassed, would have made an attempt to cover it up, but at that specific time, I couldn't have cared less. Without a word, I made my way to the OR; I didn't find myself asking what was running through her IV or what her vitals were- I was there as a wife with observing privileges because of my doctoral status, not as a doctor with loving privileges because of my marital status. I watched intently as Elizabeth- with Dean's assistance- cut, sutured, fixated and suctioned inside my wife's bloody cavities. We talked about how long Sandy and I had been together, reminisced about Mark, and discussed our children. Hours later- how long, I'm not exactly sure- Don came in. He was frantic- not as frantic as Elizabeth, but still unsettled. Why either of them were so distressed, I don't know; as far as I know, their nervousness wasn't a normalcy for surgery. I looked on to the field intently, watched as Don and Elizabeth went on, cutting and sewing, packing and repairing. I watched until they cracked her chest. I couldn't bear to watch as the sternal saw cut through her breast bone; the drill's noise filled my ears, drowned out the rapid beeping that her now declining heart-rate was causing the multiple machines to make. It was neither the blood nor the intestines that drew me back from looking on; it was the fact that the last person I'd known personally who had that used on them in my presence had died. Lucy. Was it a bad omen? Maybe. Or it could just be chalked up to the fact that having to have your sternum cut open so your heart is accessible for surgery is never really a 'good' omen. Her heart faltered until it wasn't beating at all. I began to say my goodbyes. Soon enough, blood came up through her ET tube and it was official: she was gone. I hadn't realized I had been crying until I opened my mouth to speak- to tell them they could stop- and tasted the saltiness on my lips. I sat there on the cold, steal stool and stroked her still-warm face. That warmth- something Sandy was never without- was my favorite thing about her body. She was always warm, as warm as fire. Maybe that was some sort of odd sign from the heavens that that's what she was supposed to do- fight those fires. I guess the message got lost in translation, though; she was no longer one to fight the fire. She was the one claimed by the fire.


End file.
